


Warrior

by molmcmahon



Series: Harry Potter in Assassin's Creed [15]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assassin's Creed II, Assassin's Creed III, Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag, Assassin's Creed: Forsaken, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molmcmahon/pseuds/molmcmahon
Summary: A series of Harry Potter and Assassin's Creed drabbles. Most of them will not be connected. All of them will be crossovers.These are drabbles that are too short to become one-shots, for the most part.
Relationships: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Harry Potter, Desmond Miles/Harry Potter, Edward Kenway/Harry Potter, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Harry Potter
Series: Harry Potter in Assassin's Creed [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550224
Comments: 34
Kudos: 333





	1. Harry/Edward Kenway hurt/comfort

“Oh, Edward.”

Edward swallowed on a dry throat and licked his chapped lips as he peered down at the two men below him. Ah Tabai and… Harry, the man who had served as a brief cook on the Jackdaw. Harry’s green eyes were dark but soft, his arms at his sides. Harry’s skin was paler than Edward had ever seen, a tinge of green to him that Edward didn’t know what to make of.

A gust of wind blew through him and he shuddered, his body trembling and shuddering. He was naked, had been since yesterday and Edward… was exhausted and thirsty and hungry and his back was a mess of heat.

“Let’s get you down from there,” Harry whispered, making a motion with his hands. 

The gibbet shook and he shuddered again, deeper, and a sound left his throat that made Harry flinch. “Easy, easy. ‘M not going to drop you.”

“Harry.”

“I mean no offense, mentor, but this is torture,” Harry hissed, turning to look at the Mentor of the Brotherhood. “And also… I’m not one of your people. I refuse to leave Edward in this… cage even if he doesn’t want to help you get the women out.”

Ah Tabai stared at Harry even as clouds gathered in the sky above them. “Very well.”

“Edward… how long have they had you…” Harry gestured up at the gibbet even as something carried it down to the ground.

“...Don’t know,” Edward croaked out, leaning against the cold metal of the bars. “Water… I need... 

“Alright. Hold on,” Harry said, his eyes narrowed and then he spoke words under his breath that Ah Tabai didn’t hear. “I’ve got some water, just hold tight.”

Edward whimpered as the bars around him wore torn down and back, leaving him nothing to fall against. Arms came around him and a strangled shout tore itself from his throat as Harry tugged him close.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe,” Harry said, pulling Edward closer. “You’re free.” 

He shut his eyes and burrowed into the man’s arms, his heart thumping. A cloak lowered itself down to his shoulders and he cried out as it touched… the skin on his back.

“Shhh,” Harry whispered, holding him even as Edward’s knees buckled, pain echoing through his body. Edward fell and Harry lowered them both down, holding him loosely, smoothing his fingers lightly over his back. “Shhh. I’ve got you. Here, Edward, water.”

He took a breath and turned to look at the strange cup Harry was holding, the one that had a… thing sticking out of it. He tried to reach out for it only for his arms to drop prematurely, shaking and exhausted as he was.

“You don’t need to move. Just suck on the straw. You’ll get water that way,” Harry remarked quietly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Edward shuddered at the affection and turned his head away, leaning against Harry’s shoulder.

“Straw.”

“The thing sticking out of the cup. You’re exhausted, Edward. Not to mention badly injured,” Harry muttered, turning his head elsewhere. “The fuck did Roberts stab you with that is only now finished healing?”

“Kenway, I need your help in freeing the women,” Ah Tabai finally spoke, his voice soft.

Edward glanced up at the other man before turning to look at the cup and took a sip out of the strange looking thing and let out a loud sigh of contentment. The water was cold and felt wonderful on his throat and his mouth and… Energy surged through him and he had a feeling that Harry had put something else into that drink though he didn’t know what.

“I will help you free Anne and Mary,” Harry argued, holding the cup for Edward with one hand and with the other, curling up Edward’s back to cradle his neck. “Leave Edward to rest for a while.”

“No,” Edward muttered, glancing to Ah Tabai, his eyes narrowing. “I’ll help. Mary and Anne are friends.”

Edward took a deep breath and pulled back, out of Harry’s arms. Harry stared at him, his green eyes flashing briefly in the moonlight, and then nodded. “You come straight to me afterward though. Your back needs seeing to. And you know what, your… everything else needs tending to too.”

“Will you stay here?”

“Right here, Edward Kenway. I promise,” Harry replied, reaching out to brush some of Edward’s hair out of his face. Edward stared at Harry and blinked, his cheeks reddening faintly. “You could have called for me. I would have come.”

“How?”

“Just call for Death and I will come.”

Edward stared at Harry and Harry stared back, the scar on his forehead drawing Edward’s gaze for a moment. “Death.”

“Yes. Now go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you guys have anything you want to see, whether it's a specific pairing within HP/AC or a plot point or whatever.
> 
> Plots and pairings can include anything from AC 1 to AC Syndicate. [AC 1, AC 2, AC: Brotherhood, AC: Revelations, AC 3, AC: Black Flag, AC: Unity, AC: Rogue, AC: Syndicate, AC: Odyssey, AC: Origins]
> 
> AC Valhalla is the only one I can't write for until I finish the main quest arc.


	2. Harry/Ezio Auditore Fem!Harry as Cristina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hariel Potter is called into Cristina's body as she lays dying in Ezio's arms during the Bonfire of the Vanities. [AC 2]

“No!  _ Cristina _ !”

Ezio stared down at Cristina’s body, at her limp arms and her sightless eyes. At the gaping wound in her stomach. He let out a strangled cry even as the crackling sound of fire filled the air, as the citizens of Florence threw their books and scrolls into fireplaces around the city.

“ _ No.” _

He pulled Cristina’s body tighter to him, inhaling her scent, and curled his fingers into her blood soaked clothes. Ezio pressed his ear against her chest and sat there, his breath hitching in his own throat, emotion clogging up his body and the thump that came next seemed to echo throughout the small alley.

The unquiet gasp made him draw back and Ezio blinked as he watched Cristina’s eyes open wide. Small fingers curled into his cloak and the wounds that he could see slowly but surely vanished in front of his eyes. Ezio stared and continued to stare as the body in his lap gained life.

Ezio looked into Cristina’s blue eyes and watched as her left eye slowly changed color, the bright green eating up the blue. Watched as her breathing stuttered and raced and…

“Easy, easy…” Ezio croaked out, reaching out slowly to curl his fingers into her’s. “Cristina… What…”

“Who?”

The voice was… still the same as he remembered Cristina’s voice but… there was something to it. Cristina blinked and met his eyes before her own fluttered closed, her fingers entwining with his. Ezio held on even tighter, not even caring about the blood soaked dress. Cristina’s dark hair was loose about her shoulders, having lost her ties in her flight from the fanatics.

“You are… Ezio.”

“Va bene. I am. How is this…”

Cristina opened her eyes again and finally stared up at Ezio. “I am not… My memories are too…”

Screams filled the air and Ezio’s eyes narrowed wearily, glancing at the entrance to the alley behind them. Men wearing the sigil of the corrupt Savonarola. Ezio traced his hidden blades, thumbing the trigger for them and pulled his cloak off as he felt Cristina shiver.

Cristina peered up at him, her eyes widening as he lowered his cloak around her shoulders. Her left hand went up to curl in the material and Ezio still marveled over how this was even possible. Cristina had died right in front of his eyes and yet… here she was.

“Come. Can you stand? We should leave while we still can here,” Ezio whispered. “I am sorry but Manfredo is dead.”

Cristina continued to stare at him and then tilted her head, in what looked like confusion. “Manfredo… I can stand, yes.”

Cristina peered down at her dress, her breathing still unsteady, and Ezio watched her, expecting to see her start screaming but… No, Cristina did not start screaming. The only thing Cristina did upon seeing blood was to sigh though her body still shook slightly and Ezio wanted to keep her close.

He slipped arms around her, one around her shoulders and one beneath her legs, and lifted gently. Cristina let out a small sound of surprise but curled into him and Ezio sighed. 

“I’ll bring you to a friend of mine,” Ezio whispered, as he walked out of the alley. “I have business… here but I’ll soon travel back to Monteriggioni.”

Cristina didn’t say anything for a few minutes as he carried her but her trembling stopped. Ezio walked from alleyway to alleyway, avoiding patrols by guards and citizens, and kept to the shadows. Machiavelli had said that he had found another of Savonarola’s lieutenants but hadn’t quite located him yet. 

“I’ve never been carried this way before,” Cristina finally remarked, her voice half muffled in his cloak.

“You haven’t?”

“No. It feels… nice. What’s happening here?” 

Ezio glanced around the city as he walked, keeping his voice quiet. “Many things are coming to a head, Cristina. I can’t explain…”

“Halt! You there!”

Ezio stiffened and tightened his hold on Cristina, edging around a back doorway and stopped. 

“You’re coming with us!”

“Cristina, I must…”

“This is one hell of a bonfire,” Cristina muttered and Ezio raised an eyebrow at her language, wondering if the woman in his arms was still injured. “I remember… choosing in the forest and dying here and…”

“Forest?”

“Who are you? Savonarola said to be on the lookout for--”

The four guardsmen tramped through the alleyway towards them, making so much noise Ezio was wondering why they even bothered.

“I…” Cristina trailed off, her fingers tightening in his cloak. “Ezio, put me down. You can’t be seen.”

“What… Cristina…”

“You fight in the darkness, right?”

Ezio looked down at her and met her eyes, seeing the steel in them that he had never seen before. Though once… He had seen it once when Cristina had stopped him from killing the guards that were in front of the bodies of his father and brothers. She had spoken vehemently against killing then.

“I’ve heard rumors of an Assassin. That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Cristina…”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Ezio backed up against the wall behind them and lowered Cristina, keeping an arm around her waist until her legs seemed to hold her.

“I must look dreadful,” Cristina whispered before her lips twitched up into a small grin. 

The four guards came closer and then moved into the torchlight above them. One yelped at the sight of Ezio and drew his blade. Ezio withdrew from Cristina hesitantly before engaging his own hidden blade with a soft snick. He stepped to the side and disarmed one of his large pike, only to stab another guard with it.

He pivoted and struck out with the blade that Leonardo had made for him, striking the third guard. The fourth pointed his sword at Ezio but did not move, staring at something behind Ezio and smiling.

“Your woman wears clothes that are far too rich for her.”

Ezio stiffened and stepped back, keeping both the fourth guard and the new guard who held a knife to Cristina’s throat in his sight. “Cristina!”

Cristina’s eyes glinted roughly and she swore in a language unknown to him. “Like hell am I going to die right as I just got here.”

The guard that held a knife to her throat flew backwards with a loud yelp, ramming into the stone wall behind him with a loud crack. Cristina stood there quietly, her breath hitching, and stared at Ezio, meeting his eyes steadily.

Ezio blinked even as Cristina spoke.

“Thank Merlin my magic came with me,” Cristina muttered, putting a hand to her stomach. 

The fourth guard dropped his weapon and fled and Ezio reset both his blades.

“Who are you?” Ezio questioned, taking a step towards the woman.

Cristina’s multicolored eyes softened and she reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Ezio stilled at her touch, as warmth coiled into his skin. 

“I am both Cristina Vespucci and Hariel Potter. Cristina died but she called out to me. I… remember falling in love with you, Ezio Auditore. I remember living in London in 1998 and fighting a war. I remember sleeping with you and I remember kissing you at the Carnevale and knowing it was you from the way you kiss.

I have her memories but I am not her." 


	3. Harry/Altair Ibn-La'Ahad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezio is very confused. Set during Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood in Rome.

Ezio blinked as he walked into the small kitchen in the Brotherhood’s lair, once again seeing one of his apprentices and their unusual cook. The apprentice and cook were standing close together, with the cook stirring the huge pot of stew he was making. The apprentice was in the robes of the Italian Brotherhood, white with red sashes and pouches. The cook, Harry, wore… ‘louder’ robes, a darkly colored set of clothes with a lion rearing on the back.

The apprentice had his hood up and was talking too quietly for Ezio to make anything out but… He knew who it was. Or well could guess who it was. The man he had taken in a month ago had come hand in hand with their new cook, something about them being… a packaged deal, they called it? He remembered looking at them with eagle vision and watching the gold outline both of their forms.

“Anything good tonight?” Ezio questioned, as he stepped over to the counter.

Harry turned around, a ladle in his hands, and raised an eyebrow. “Mentor. Ah… I suppose. We were a bit… late in getting ingredients because  _ someone _ had to get involved in a robbery but I think it’ll work out.”

“I believe that was you, Harry.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was. I am not arguing about this.”

The apprentice’s voice was accented and confident, low. Ezio remembered the man saying that he was from south of Constantinople but the man hadn’t said anything more than that.

Harry sighed and elbowed the other man. “This one here is no fun. You seem like more fun, Ezio Auditore.”

Ezio blinked and looked between Harry, the Brotherhood’s new cook, and his apprentice. He grinned slightly in amusement and looked down at the pot of stew, inhaled deeply, and sighed. “I do not discourage fun. On the contrary, there is good sense in enjoying yourself. I myself have engaged in many sleepless nights.”

Harry grinned and turned to look at the apprentice. “See if we share a bed again.”

The apprentice sighed loudly. “Did you want me to test your newest concoction or not?”

“Not after you’ve spoken ill of me. Would you like to try it, Ezio?”

“Harry, we have traveled together for many years.”

“Yes, we have. You’re a shitty traveling companion. You like my cooking.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Am I missing something?” Ezio questioned, before Harry could open his mouth again. 

Harry tilted his head and shrugged, his eyes flashing with some emotion that Ezio couldn’t decipher. “Perhaps. Do you have time to hear our tale?”

“Harry is… a very talented storyteller, I must admit,” the apprentice remarked, finally turning to the side. Ezio could only see the darker skin of a man perhaps from Constantinople but the hood covered everything. “And a skilled cook. You have found and lost an Apple, have you not?”

“Mentore! We have need of you!”

Ezio grimaced and turned to look back down through the door.

“Here. Before you go, taste,” Harry urged, drawing his attention again.

“Is there something that I can assist you with, mentor?” The apprentice questioned as he turned back around only to see Harry holding out a spoon. A spoon that had a little bit of stew in it.

Ezio blinked and looked into the man’s green eyes before he reached out to grasp the spoon himself. He swallowed the stew that was on it and groaned in pleasure, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them.

“See, Altaïr. The man has a sweet tooth. I told you.”

Ezio looked between the two men in front of him and raised an eyebrow.

Harry returned his look, casually looking Ezio over, his shoulders loose. Ezio turned to look at his apprentice, at the bracers on his arms, and up to what he could see of the man’s face, which was little.

“You are called Altaïr?”

The man’s lips twitched up into a small, bemused grin and Ezio frowned.

“His parents knew of the first true Mentor of the Brotherhood,” Harry remarked, his eyes glinting with something and then he smiled. “We’ve been traveling together for a while so…”

“There is no relation to the Eagle of Masyaf then? The author of the Codex?”

“Mentore!”

Harry stepped back, closing the distance between him and Ezio’s apprentice, and smiled warily. “Go. We’ll talk later, Ezio.”

Ezio stared at the two of them, suddenly feeling smaller than he had when he had walked in, and then turned around and hurried through the hallway. He traced both hidden blades at his wrist as he walked, pondering the two men as he left.

  
  


* * *

The very same apprentice came to his call a month later and the conversation was out of his mind as Ezio parried and dodged in a ring of Borgia soldiers. He disarmed one and stabbed another one with the same pike, stepping out of the way of a crossbow bolt in the next minute. He sidestepped another and pushed the man out of the way, leaving the soldier to have his eyes caught by the bright fading sun.

The smoke bomb that went off a minute later was not his and he took full advantage of it, engaging his hidden blades and impaling the two men closest to him. Ezio met the man’s eyes across the street and looked into amber eyes, eyes that were narrowed but almost serene. The man across from him parried and struck as if it were a dance, his sword whirling with lethal ease. Every single man around him fell and Ezio’s eyes widened as the Brotherhood’s cook and the apprentice showed themselves.

Harry and Ezio’s apprentice stared at him as they reset their blades, their eyes dark. Both men wore bracers at their wrists and both men had pouches.

“You are not an apprentice,” Ezio finally spoke, sheathing his blade. “And you are not just a cook.”

“You pick up a lot of things when you travel and live with Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad for several hundred years,” Harry remarked quietly, looking beyond them at the street, as if he was keeping watch for the two of them..

“We have things to talk about, Mentor.” 

Ezio’s eyes widened and widened some more as he watched his apprentice pull down his hood, revealing his face. Revealing the scar on his lip and his amber eyes. He narrowed his own eyes, taking in the sight before him, and then knelt in the street. Harry was not lying and his apprentice looked exactly like the statue of Altaïr that had stood in the Sanctuary in Monteriggioni. “Mentor.”

Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad stood before him in the flesh and he looked young. He looked to be in his thirties, strong and lethal in battle. Ezio’s heart raced and skipped within his chest. His cheeks warmed as he remembered the brief conversation that he had witnessed a month ago.

“Stand up, Messer Auditore. We are equals, you and I.”

Ezio shivered at the man’s words and stood up, staring at the two men who had just flipped his world upside down. “Anything. Anything I can help with, I will. You changed the Brotherhood for good. But I would like to know one thing.”

Harry’s lips twitched up into a small grin. “Yes, Altaïr may or may not be… long lived. The rest is secret, at least for the moment.”

“I am and forever will be ruined by curiosity,” Altaïr remarked, his eyes glowing in the sunlight, his shoulders loose and his arms at his sides. “You found every page of my Codex after all.”

Ezio smiled and nodded. “Yes, mentore. I did. I have each and every weapon you designed though… I unfortunately lost your sword and armor.”

“Not as such,” Altaïr said, dipping his head in a nod. “We followed your flight from Monteriggioni.”

“They’re safe in my trunk,” Harry offered, looking between the two men. “How about we finish this back on Tiber Island? We’re standing over dead bodies here. It’s just a little unsubtle.”

Ezio continued to stare at Altaïr, taking in his every feature, and Altaïr cleared his throat. Ezio started just a little bit and smiled widely. 

“What things do you have to talk about that I could answer?” Ezio questioned, as they started off, into one alleyway and down into the sewer tunnels. 

“What you saw in the Vatican’s vault after you fought the pope for the Papal staff,” Harry said, as they walked through the dark tunnels. “I know you’ve told Machiavelli and Leonardo.”

“I saw… many things that I cannot make sense of,” Ezio explained, remembering that day. “Perhaps you can though.”

Altaïr dipped his head in a nod before gesturing to Harry. “He would. I have studied my Apple for a long time but I never… saw anything other than knowledge.”

“Who are you then?” Ezio questioned, turning to look at Harry as they turned a corner and stopped at the door up to the Tiber Island hideout.

Harry shrugged, looked at Altaïr, and then to Ezio. “I am many things but you could perhaps say that I am Death but that’s neither the point nor what I want to explain now.”

“I saw… a goddess who said she wasn’t a goddess.”

Harry blinked, watched as Ezio opened the door ahead of them.

“A Precursor then,” Altaïr remarked quietly. “What did she say?”

“She spoke of the earth burning and mentioned someone called Desmond.” 


	4. Harry/Desmond, Post AC3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Desmond Miles meets Harry Potter.

“Soo… What’s your story?”

Desmond yelped and scrambled up, looking over the small pond to the man who had just materialized as if from thin air. The sound of wings rippled through the air and his eyes widened as the outline of feathers… wings… appeared on the man’s back. His muscles ached as if in memory, the last few moments of his life in pain, and he twitched his fingers, wanting a blade there when there was none.

The man continued to stare at him, his bright green eyes narrowed and his black hair messy. The man wore a shimmering black cloak, a stick behind an ear, and a ring flickering on a finger.

“You an angel?”

“I could be. That the prelude to a pickup line?”

Desmond blinked and then snorted, memories of Ezio picking up women flashing through his mind. Though it wasn’t like Ezio needed lines. He could just  _ talk _ people into his bed with that voice of his.

The man’s accent was English but Desmond wasn’t automatically annoyed by it. He had been automatically annoyed by Shaun when he had first met the man but Shaun’s had been tinged with arrogance. Both Shaun and Rebecca had talked over him, through him, about him even when he was in the room. Maybe they thought he had been a Templar mole but still… They had only warmed up to him in the last few moments and William Miles… was a whole other fish.

This man did not sound an inch arrogant or full of himself. Perhaps a little confident but Desmond got the feeling that it wasn’t unwarranted. 

“Nah. Seriously though… What’s with the wings?”

“It’s the thing to do in this realm,” the man remarked, shrugging. “I guess. There was a change in management after all. Death said I had to… get to know people.”

“And by people you mean… dead people.”

“Something like that. It’s not like I don’t know enough dead people.”

“You’re dead too?”

The man shook his head, gestured to the empty spot next to Desmond. Desmond nodded idly and patted the spot, rubbing his fingers in the dirt and sand. Or at least what he thought was dirt or sand. He was dead after all. It could have been a figment of his imagination.

The man slowly walked over and sat down, leaving some space between them. The man’s wings fluttered and one curled around Desmond, making him jump a little. The feathers were warm and soft, tickling a little bit. Desmond stared over at the wing, wanting to touch but knowing that he should probably ask permission first. He had been a human guinea pig. He knew what it was like to be poked and prodded unwillingly.

“You can touch,” the man said, his lips twitching up into a small grin. “You’re not completely dead, you know.”

Desmond nodded idly, already reaching out to touch the tip of his finger to a feather and…

“What.”

An electric shock passed through his finger the moment he touched the wing and he stared at the man, freezing.

“However you died… I can still see a bit of… life in you.”

“Juno…”

“Hmm?”

“What do you… see?” Desmond asked, turning to look at the man next to him. He watched as the guy pulled off his boots and dipped his feet into the pond, idly splashing around. “What are you?”

“I can see souls and life and death,” the man offered. “Not unlike whatever your special… vision is, whatever that is.”

“Eagle Vision. We call it eagle vision.”

“How did you die anyway?”

Desmond let out a small huff and brought up his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. “I saved the world.”

“Ah.”

“You say that like it explains everything.”

“I saved my world too. Harry.”

Desmond reached out his own hand, feeling his right hand tremble, ache with ghostly pain. “Desmond.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“LIkewise. I think.”

Harry snorted and bumped shoulders with him. Desmond laughed and Harry’s wing curled around him further, as if it was trying to shelter him. 

The pond in front of them shimmered and flickered before it changed. The water was still there and Desmond could feel it with the tips of his fingers but the scene changed. It was no longer clear and he could no longer see fish swimming within it but people. 

Shaun… Rebecca… standing at a coffee booth, talking idly with an Abstergo employee. William Miles discussing something with a hooded Assassin.

Desmond sighed and turned away, focusing instead on Harry. The man who had wings.

Harry reached out and cupped his chin, his thumb stroking Desmond’s cheek. “What do  _ you  _ want _? _ ”

Desmond shivered at the touch and licked his lips. Harry’s eyes followed the movement and then withdrew, gesturing to the pond again.

Connor appeared on the top of the water, leaping from tree to tree, tomahawk in hand. Altaïr in Master Assassin robes in his office at Masyaf. And… a strangled sound left his throat as Ezio appeared in the water and he reached out, fingertips touching the water’s surface. 

The whole of Monterrigioni appeared around Ezio and Desmond  _ wanted _ . 

“You wanna?”

Desmond blinked and turned to look at Harry again, meeting the man’s eyes.

There was mischief in those green eyes, a glint of excitement, and Desmond didn’t quite know what Harry was offering but he nodded.

“Better than this abandoned hellhole anyway.”

“Excuse me! This is my home!”

“Still a hellhole. Literally actually.”

“Someone’s confident.”

“You asked what I want.” Desmond stared at Harry and Harry stared back, raising an eyebrow.

“I did. Confidence looks good on you, Desmond Miles..”

Harry held out a hand and Desmond took it easily.

He screamed as darkness invaded his vision and stars flickered within him, tugging him into… something or somewhere. He tumbled for minutes and landed onto a cobblestone street. The sound of wings filled his ears and he looked around himself, taking in the small homes and stone stores, familiar stores, and… The villa with the Assassin banners strung over the roof. It wasn’t in ruins and neither was it untouched.

Galloping hooves sounded before Desmond saw the horses and he pulled Harry off the street as two horsemen rode through the city. Two horsemen that were familiar. Horsemen that were… A strangled gasp left his throat and his knees buckled, reaching up his hand to rub his eyes.

He could have sworn that the two horsemen were Ezio and Mario Auditore.

“Is this…”

“Desmond, you have been through much. Do you really think this is… not real?”

“But it’s…”

“ It’s real. That really is Ezio Auditore da Firenze.”

Desmond laughed and his knees buckled. Harry caught him, eying him even as he waved off concerned townsfolk. 

“He and his uncle have just come back from Rome,” Harry offered, tipping his chin towards the villa, where they could both see the two men dismounting from their horses. 

Desmond sucked in a tight breath as realization hit him. Ezio just come back from Rome. Back. Back to Monterrigioni. That meant… “He just spoke to Minerva for the first time. He knows my name.”

“Yep.”

“And… Cesare's forces are…”

“Yep. You still want to stay here?”

“Yes. For nothing is true and everything is permitted,” Desmond whispered, staring up at Ezio as he watched the man walk up the steps into the villa.

“And by the way, Desmond… you didn’t say your ancestor was gorgeous.”

Desmond laughed again and continued laughing even as Harry pressed two bracers into his open hands. Bracers with hidden blades strapped to them.

“Here. They look good on you.”


	5. AC 3 AU Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more of that Kenway family drama and shenanigans courtesy of Harry Potter.

“Edward Kenway.”

“Yeah, yeah, what is it?”

Edward reached out an arm to swat at the man who sat in front of him. “Fuck off. It’s still dark.”

“You’re dead, Edward, remember?”

Memories flooded him and he gasped, reaching his arm instead to his chest and… He broke into a coughing fit at the feeling of the gaping wound and fingers wrapped around him instead. His last sight was…

“Haytham?” 

“He’s… not dead and nor is your daughter.”

He looked into the man’s green eyes, his eyes widening a little at the sight of wings protruding from the man’s back. “I’m...dead.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Edward closed his eyes and sat cross legged on the floor of his mansion. His body and clothes were see through and he held up his hand to look through it. 

“Edward… it’s been years since you died though. I’ve come to bring you back.”

“You’re Death. You’re the man I saw after I killed.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you here now?”

“Your son and grandson… are fighting.”

Edward opened his eyes and blinked, his heart skipping a beat at the words. “Grandson?”

“His English name’s Connor. He’s an Assassin, trained by a former mentor in America. Your son had relations with an American Indian woman.”

Edward smiled at the thought and wondered if his son, if Haytham, was the mentor of the British Assassins. Perhaps he was. That’s what he had wanted for Haytham, to grow up as better than Edward. 

“American Indian?”

The man nodded. “It’s what we call them in the future.”

“So my son and grandson are fighting. It runs in the Kenway family.”

The man sighed and shook his head. “I’ve talked to both Haytham and Connor. I don’t think they’ll get past this without your help.”

“What about Jenny? Is she alright?”

“She’s… fine. She lives in London but she…” The man trailed off, his skin going even paler. The man’s dark green shirt covered his torso and strange leggings covered his legs, ending up in boots that looked very comfortable, if a little strange. The wings fluttered in a nonexistent breeze, big black feathers curling and winding around the man’s body.

Edward’s eyes narrowed and he wished he had a blade with him now. “What happened to my daughter?”

“Your property manager, Birch, was a Templar, a Grand Master. He sold her into slavery.”

Edward almost let out a growl at the thought as he stood up, his fingers clenching into fists. “He sold her…”

“She’s safe. Haytham rescued her not too long ago.”

“I hope he killed Birch then.”

“Jenny did.”

Edward grinned at the thought and then glanced out at the ghostly mansion around them. “I should have taught her how to fight.”

“Yes, you should have. You fought alongside Mary Read and Anne Bonny. You should have taught your daughter how to defend herself,” the man remarked quietly. “In the future, women fight in the military and in the Assassins. Even Ezio Auditore’s sister became an Assassin. Altair Ibn La-Ahad’s wife was a Templar and she knew how to fight. One of my best friends was a woman and she became more than a little blood thirsty. Brightest witch of her age.”

Edward blinked at the man and stared at him as his eyes turned soft. “What do you mean by that? Witch?”

“It’s a long story, Edward. You and I have a fight to stop in the meantime.”

“Haytham. He must be in his fifties by now,” Edward said, turning to look in the direction of Haytham’s old room in the mansion. “How old is Connor?”

“He’s 19.”

“They have time. They’ll get over it.”

The man blinked and then slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. Haytham is so set in his ways now and he’s suffered so many losses and betrayals… And Connor’s been… influenced by a Precursor and Achilles.”

Edward stared at the man, his heart racing in his chest. “What are you not telling me?”

“Haytham Kenway is the Grand Master of the Colonial Rite of the Templars,” the man offered quietly, following Edward with his eyes as he froze.

Edward continued to stare at the man, wondering if this was all a joke, if he was dreaming. “Haytham… My son… is a Templar?”

“He was raised by Birch after you died. Birch was the British Grand Master and Haytham grew up… cold and alone.”

A noise left his throat, a strangled sound, and Edward swallowed at the fury that erupted in his heart. “He raised my son as a Templar?”

“Haytham does know how to fight and he’s a bastard but he’s still your son. He’s still Connor’s father even though he didn’t know of it until Connor was 17.”

“Where is Birch?”

“Edward, not the time. You can go kill Birch again later,” the man said. “You’re the only one who can pull Haytham away from his fate. There is another but… I don’t know. Shay is busy locating something.”

“You brought me back from the dead to do this?”

The man’s lips twitched up into a bemused smile but he nodded. “Seemed easier.”

Edward stared at him. “It… seemed easier.”

“I am Death after all.”

“Alright. Let me talk to him.”

The man dipped his head in a nod and closed the distance, reached out to tap a finger to Edward’s forehead.

* * *

  
  


Connor struggled against Haytham, twisting his arm back and then yelled as he stabbed the other man’s wrist. Haytham shouted and groaned, his hidden blade breaking and falling to the snowy ground.

“Surely you could see this only had one ending, Connor!” Haytham hissed, crouching down and meeting him head on. His wrist dripped blood and the bracer was left empty, the blade broken. The sounds of cannonfire filled the air and the fort around them crumbled as it was bombarded. Shouts and frightened whinnying joined in and Connor swayed, having been thrown roughly to the ground in the first blast. “Templar vs Assassin.”

“Where is Charles Lee, father?” Connor retorted.

“Son?”

Connor blinked as Haytham froze in front of him. Two men appeared from behind the corner of the building, one with messy black hair that fell to his shoulders and the other, with messy, dirty blond hair that fell down to beneath his ears. The blond man looked older, more serious. Connor could see them but Haytham could not and Connor’s father still froze.

“Haytham?”

Haytham let out a strangled gasp, his face paling. The blade he was wielding fell to the ground abruptly as he turned around. “Edward?”

“Oh, Haytham. My son.”

Connor watched as the blond haired man slowly walked forward, his bright blue eyes almost soft. There was a hard twist to his lips but there was so much love on the stranger’s face that Connor had to focus, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

“Father? Is it… really…” Haytham trailed off, his voice faint and unsteady.

“ _ Son.” _

Haytham’s knees buckled and Connor watched as the blond man raced forward to catch Haytham right before he hit the dirt. The night sky rose above them and the moon lit up the two men, as the blond man wrapped his arms tightly around Haytham.

Connor blinked even as he heard a sound leave Haytham’s throat, more animal whine than anything he had ever heard before. Broken. 

“Who…”

“That…” The other man, black haired and green eyed, walked over to his side. The flutter of wings filled the air but Connor couldn’t see any bird in the sky, even with his vision. “That is your grandfather. Edward Kenway, Master Assassin and former pirate.”

Edward Kenway. “I have a grandfather?”

“Yes.”

Connor heard… Edward whisper something and Haytham burrowed even more into his father’s arms.

“You even have an aunt,” the man remarked quietly. “Jennifer Scott.”

“Hey, Death. My son needs bandages for his wrist,” Edward finally spoke, raising his voice a little. His eyes met Connor’s and Edward smiled faintly. “Connor. It is nice to meet you.”

Connor nodded tentatively, feeling his stomach flip around. “It’s… good to meet you too, sir.”

The man next to him pulled out cloth from somewhere, perhaps a pocket, and walked over to Edward and Haytham’s side to kneel down. The man reached up slowly and smoothed a hand down Haytham’s back, over the cape and tunic. Connor could see Haytham shudder visibly and then he sheathed his sword, resetting his own hidden blade. “Here. And Connor?”

Connor raised an eyebrow as he stared at the green eyed man. 

“Charles Lee left a few hours ago. The Aquila is docked a mile away.”

Connor nodded and turned to start walking away when Haytham’s father called him over.

“Connor? Come here. You’re family,” Edward offered, winking at him. “You’re injured as well.”

“How…”

“I am an Assassin too, Connor. I know these things,” Edward remarked faintly, gesturing over to him.

“But… Haytham…” Connor trailed off.

“Get over here,” Edward said. “Or I’ll have you walk the plank.”

Haytham let out a watery sounding laugh, still shuddering in Edward’s arms. “Father…”

“Oh, shush you.”

Connor stared between Edward and Haytham.

“He never made anyone walk the plank,” the man… Death spoke, turning to look at Connor, mischief in his eyes. “Don’t worry.”

Connor sighed and tentatively closed the distance, kneeling down beside his father and his grandfather. Edward raised an eyebrow and threw an arm around his shoulders too. He froze for an instant and his father’s eyes. Haytham’s eyes were red from crying but he didn’t look at Connor like he had a few minutes ago.

The sounds of bombardment fell away as Connor finally relaxed, as Edward introduced himself properly.

Death stood over them, hovering almost protectively, wings outstretched over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll never be over how tragic Edward, Haytham and Connor's stories are.


	6. Hariel Potter/Edward Kenway Post Black Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Edward Kenway does not die in the attack on his house.

The yell of her son woke her up and Harrie quickly opened her eyes, elbowing Edward next to her. Her magic flared in her as her wards blared an alarm. The elder wand slipped into her hands and she heard Edward reach for his sword. He was shirtless, his medium length blond hair loose around his head.

The night sky was dark as she glanced through the windows of their mansion. She glanced over to the few neighbors they had and spotted… She cursed under her breath as she saw dead bodies.

“The kids!” Edward exclaimed, meeting her eyes. “You’ll…”

“I’ll get them. You’re going to the basement?”

Edward nodded and grasped his sword, the metal blade shining in the moonlight that hit it from the window. “Be careful, love.”

Harrie snorted and swung her legs off the bed. “You be careful. No reckless pirating about.”

“You wound me, Harrie!”

“You’re half naked, Edward. You’re only--”

A man leapt through the window, shattering glass, and rolled, coming up swinging. Edward struck fast and easy, impaling the man with his sword. Blood spattered as the blade slid past bone and muscle and Harrie paled as she ran out of their bedroom, headed directly for her son and step daughter.

“Haytham! Jenny!”

“Mother!”

Harrie stopped right as another man, dressed all in black, ran right to her. Sounds of fighting filled the hall, blade meeting blade, and Harrie cursed under her breath, hoping Edward could hold his own. He didn’t have his hidden blades on him but then again… He wasn’t a Master Assassin for nothing.

Another yell came from Jenny and her heart raced within her chest, her magic coming to her call as she ran at the oncoming man. Distantly she knew what Jenny could do with a blade but Harrie had yet to give her step daughter her gift. Not to mention that Edward didn’t…

She cast a tripping hex towards the man and then knocked him out with another three words. Yet another man ran towards her and she breathed deeply then encased him in ropes, knowing that she and Edward would want to know who these men were. Having more of them alive would mean more chances to find out the truth. 

Harrie kept on moving, fighting her way through black clothed men who wielded swords and daggers. The men wore a mismatched set of armor and she was already thinking, her mind going quickly. Edward hadn’t upset anyone in particular in the past week and nor had she. She couldn’t see any sign of them being Templars but Templars wouldn’t advertise themselves. 

The small blur that attached herself to her side a moment later was familiar and a relief. Haytham clung to her leggings, his bright blue eyes looking everywhere. “Haytham! Where’s your sister?”

“She’s back in her room,” Haytham whispered, gesturing to where Jenny’s rooms were. “She sent me to find you and make sure you were alright.”

Harrie curled an arm around Haytham, startling a little bit to find that he was an inch taller than he had been. Her son was now ten years old and already beginning to learn the family business though he did not know of Edward’s true past.

She peered down at Haytham and then slipped her fingers into his and led him to Jenny’s rooms. Four more men were barreling their way through Jenny’s door, having knocked it down. Harrie smiled a little as they passed, noting the table that had previously been blocking their way. She could hear Jenny yelling but not in pain or in helplessness. It was more like… taunting.

“You better kill me, you cowards! My stepmother will! You’re too slow and stupid!”

Harrie snorted and took one of them unawares as she stepped into Jenny’s sitting room, stepping behind one of the men and knocking him out with a well placed spell. Haytham left her side only to grab one of the downed men’s swords and fight, striking out at another man. 

Jenny wielded a dagger in her hand, stolen from one of the bodies around her. The blade was slick with blood and Harrie flinched before gesturing at another man, whispering two words. The man keeled over a second later, his eyes going glassy in death. After the guy went down, it was just her, Jenny and Haytham, standing in the center of three bodies.

Jenny’s blonde hair was messy and wild, strands falling loose from the braid that she had put it in before she had gone to bed. Her light shift had splatters of blood on it and Harrie was about to ask her if she was alright when they all heard the loud, pained yell. 

“Edward!”

“Father!”

Haytham shouted out and ran out of the room. Harrie followed just as quickly and Jenny followed too, running side by side with her. 

Jenny herself was 22, tall and defiant and Harrie had fallen in love with her the moment they had met. Edward Kenway, the single father, had just arrived in London and she had been taken by the man right as they had met. It had taken quite a while for them both to trust each other and for their secrets to not become as hidden but she was now Hariel Kenway. At least to most folk here. In private, she was Hariel Potter-Kenway.

She ran through the mansion and down the steps at a hurried pace, dispatching any man who stood in her way. Jenny and Haytham ran behind her with their borrowed weapons and almost ran into Reginald Birch. The younger man stared at the three of them and then fell into step with Jenny, who glared at him.

Harrie didn’t pause at all, remembering Jenny’s words that the man was a Templar, and filing that away. She kept an eye on him as she raced through doorways and down another set of stairs into the hidden room where…

“Edward! Don’t you dare die on me!” Harrie yelled, her eyes widening and then narrowing at the sight before them.

Edward Kenway was hunched over on the floor, his knees beneath him, a sword through his chest. Blood splattered from the wound at an alarming pace and she ran right to him, catching him as he fell. There were five bodies laying on the floor around him and three more still standing. She killed them with two words and watched them fall without a thought otherwise.

Edward was warm and limp in her arms as she gathered him close, extending her magic out and into him. He coughed and slumped into her, the sword still in his chest. Her breathing hitched and she leaned her forehead against his, meeting his dull blue eyes.

“Don’t you dare, Kenway,” Harrie muttered. “I forbid it.”

Edward smiled at her, blood gurgling out of his mouth. “...You do, lass?”

“Aye, I do. I need my--”

“I retrieved it, mother,” Haytham spoke, handing her the kit that she needed. “On the way.”

“ _ Fuck. _ ”

More men came racing towards them and then Haytham stepped close, in front of them, his stolen weapon at the ready. Jenny too stood between Harrie and Edward and anyone else. 

A man came at them and Haytham slid his sword right into the man’s gut, pulling it out fast.

Jenny threw her dagger at another man, hitting him square in his heart. Harrie smiled faintly at the evidence that her lessons were making a difference and then got to work, reaching out with her magic and anchoring Edward to  _ life. _

“ _ Harrie _ …” Edward whispered, his eyes wide as he watched his daughter defend them. “ _ Hariel.  _ My angel.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your angel. You’re my pirate,” Harrie retorted, lowering him gently to the floor. 

Birch stood over the four of them, a sword in hand, and Harrie spared a glance to his eyes. Something in the man’s eyes glinted and she near let out a growl as she spelled a part of herself into his mind, skimming the surface thoughts of Reginald Birch.

“Jenny, restrain Birch, please,” Harrie hissed out through clenched teeth as she went to work over her husband. She reached out a hand and summoned the one sword that always came at her call. Gryffindor’s sword melted into her palm and she held it out.

Jenny glanced behind her, her eyes widening a little bit at the sight before she reached out for the hilt. 

Edward’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as Harrie slowly but surely removed the sword in his chest.

“Mother?” Haytham questioned, beginning to turn around only for Jenny to elbow him.

“Stay still, Haytham,” Jenny whispered, aiming the shiny sword at Birch, her betrothed and their family’s property manager. “Birch, you will stay where you are. You’re a Templar and now my parents know it.”

“Templar?” Birch repeated, his eyes wide with attempted innocence. He took a step backwards as Jenny wielded a blade at him. She looked to be quite comfortable with it in her hand, more than Haytham was with his stolen blade. Reginald had not known that Edward was teaching his daughter as well as his son in the Assassin ways.

“What’s a Templar?” Haytham asked, looking between the two of them. “Mother?”

“A little busy here,” Harrie croaked, her eyes near glowing as she healed Edward. Magic poured out of her in gallons, as she muttered healing spells over Edward’s chest. The torn flesh underneath her was bloody and bruised and she still wanted to repair it enough to fix those tattoos. Those damned tattoos and her husband’s body… He was still as handsome as he had been when they had first met.

“Will father be alright?” Haytham whispered, his eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” Harrie answered, sweeping a hand through Edward’s sweat soaked hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “He better be after I’m through with him. Now Birch…” 

Birch brought up his weapon and Jenny took a step forward, her eyes glinting with anger. 

“You arranged all this,” Harrie spoke, calm steel in her tone as she looked up at Birch. “Why?”

“Your husband is an Assassin.”

“That he is. And I’m something wholly different,” Harrie remarked, her arms still around Edward. “Why?”

“It is what the Templar and Assassin war always ends in. A fight, my dear.”

Harrie glared at him and Birch took that moment to reach out, engaging Jenny in a fight. Their swords clashed and Edward groaned in her lap, his left arm reaching up to…

“Edward…” Harrie muttered, reaching down to still his hand. “Not now.”

Edward laughed, coughed once or twice, and peered up at them, blinking his eyes open. “Is it my imagination or is our daughter fighting a Templar?”

“She is.”

Edward’s bright blue eyes peered into her own, eying her suspiciously. “And how could she have known how to fight?”

“It’s called dancing, father!” Jenny exclaimed, as she parried Birch’s blow. 

Edward stared at Harrie, who shrugged and grinned.

“I may or may not have taken her to a ‘dancing’ master,” Harrie offered, seeing Edward’s chest finally slow and mend. Blood vanished and dirt disappeared. 

Edward rolled his eyes fondly and started to attempt to get up only for Harrie to press her fingers onto his warm chest. “You’re still healing. Stay down. Haytham, watch over your father for me. Let me deal with the Templar.”

Haytham nodded and stood over Edward as Harrie laid him on the floor and stood up. 

“And that dancing master may or may not be Anne Bonny,” Harrie added, turning to wink at Edward before staring at Birch. 

Harrie looked into Birch’s eyes and was about to speak two words when Birch ran at her. Jenny held him off, flashing Gryffindor’s sword quick like a snake and struck. The sword made contact with flesh and Birch yelled out, going silent quickly as Jenny finished him off with a quick slice to his throat. Reginald Birch fell to the floor, dead and cold by the time his body hit the rug.

Edward spluttered from where he lay on the floor and Harrie stood there, glancing at Jenny. Her step daughter was breathing heavily, blood on her dress, and Harrie slowly laid a hand on Jenny’s sword wrist.

“Jenny,” Harrie whispered. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We’re safe. Thank you.”

Jenny let out a strangled gasp and collapsed, the sword collapsing to the floor. Harrie wrapped an arm around her and led her over to where Haytham and Edward were, sitting down on the floor.

“We’re safe,” Harrie murmured, slipping her other hand into Edward’s. “You owe me.”

Edward stared up at her and then broke into quiet laughter. “Hariel Kenway, my wife, I concede. You’re always as beautiful as the Jackdaw.”

Harrie sighed and leaned into Edward’s palm as he cupped her face. “I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you had died.”

“I wouldn’t have forgiven myself,” Edward muttered. “Anne?”

“Jenny wanted to learn and women these days should know how to protect themselves,” Harrie argued, glaring down at her husband. “You should keep your blades at one of our bedside tables.”

“Aye, I should. But where’s the fun in that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Haytham would definitely not become a Templar but he might still find himself in the colonies and fall in love with Ziio. Possibly even as the Mentor of the Colonial Brotherhood. Jenny would possibly become an Assassin or she might not.
> 
> Haytham might even be a wizard. Who knows. I don't.


End file.
